


What We Weild

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apologies, Discipline, M/M, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 9: Sharp.  Dean’s sulking over John’s punishment needs attending to. Technically follows prompt 8, but can stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Weild

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only.

John gives Dean a little push to hurry him into the motel room, and Sam doesn’t miss the fact that Dean’s walking a little stiffly.

“Sam, I have to make a contact. You’ve finished the research? Pack and prep the weapons kit, I want to head out as soon as we’re through here. I hate this town.”

Dean moves to pull the bag that holds their weapons out from under the bed, and John catches his arm.

“No, son, you leave that. You heard what I told you – you’re out of commission as a hunter for a while. Sam will take care of it, you just pack up the rest of the stuff, and I’ll expect to see you thinking about the chat we had if you’re not done by the time we come back.”

Dean’s look is horrified, and John closes the door behind him on his way out. Dean pads over to Sam, grabs his wrists with a pleading look. Sam simply shakes his brother off.

“Sam…”

“Dammit, Dean, I agree with him. You pull that cowboy shit all the time, and it’s nearly gotten you killed HOW many times? I’m not losing you, Dean, I’m not. You listen to what Dad has to say, because I’m backing him up on this one.” And with that, Sam turns away from his shocked brother, trying not to think about the heat that must be emanating from Dean’s tight ass. He finishes putting his duffel together, then pulls the weapons kit out, lays them out in priority, and starts with cleaning and loading, grouping the appropriate ammo or backups with each weapon as he finishes and stows it away. He’s exact and methodical, and he wonders what Dean is thinking. He doesn’t look up until he finishes the last knife, honed to a fine edge. Dean is lying on the bed, face down, turned away from Sam, his duffel and John’s at the end of the bed.

Sam reminds himself not to sigh, and gets out his herb kit, mixing warding and protective bags, preparing a bag that will burst open on contact, sprinkling hyssop for purification and protection, hex breaking powder, horehound for exorcism into the soft flannel, traces the right symbols, murmurs the simple spell to wake the power in the herbs. Dean is still ignoring him, and Sam is just clearing away the herbs, setting the finished bags aside when the door opens to admit John. Sam gives his father one of the three protective spells, telling him to tuck it in a pocket. It only takes a glance at the protection and warding bags left on the table, and a glance at Dean, and John is standing Dean up, tucking the bags into the older boy’s pocket.

“Go get in the car, son. I’ll get your bag, mind you get in the backseat, now.”

The look on Dean’s face is a step shy of murderous, and John moves quickly to swat his behind before he makes it out the door. It doesn’t take long for Sam and his father to brief one another, set a simple plan for the hunt. It’s a spirit bound by witchcraft, dangerous and canny, but with the plan they’ll be safe enough. John is distraction, powerful attack, while Sam is sneakier, will read the exorcism, wield the charmed blade. Sam will throw the bag of herbs, and when it opens, John will toss in the flaming match, and they’ll be out, back to the car, and out of town before a disturbance is registered.

Dean sulks in the backseat of the Impala through the whole thing, watching the figures move and dart through the picture glass of the farmhouse window. It doesn’t do much for his temper.

John makes sure to clap Sam on the shoulder, praise him as they head for the car, the boy performed beautifully, not swayed at all when plans were interfered with, just moving on smoothly to the contingency plans John had trained into the boys. He likes the pride on Sam’s face, tries to ignore the signs of temper in his oldest son. Sam’s dying to talk things over with Dean, but the older boy pushes him away.

It takes three days of driving to get them up to the isolated cabin in New York State, and Dean hasn’t said a word to either his father or younger brother, has simply jerked away from Sam when the younger boy comes to bed at night. Last night, John caught the tears shining from Sam’s eyes, and that’s it. He’s had it with the attitude problem from Dean.

It doesn’t take a lot of thought, he simply yanks Dean out from under the blankets and over his lap, starts spanking. He’s tired, and it’s hell on him, and he’s glad he’s got his back turned to Sam, because it can’t be easy for the kid, either. He stops when Dean’s choking back sobs, and jerks the boy upright.

“You. That is enough bullshit. Me, I’m the bad guy here, not him. You’ll spend the next two weeks proving to ME that you’re a hunter, and not Evil Kneivel. Now, you owe your brother an apology. “ He pulls Dean back when the boy tries to head for Sam. “No. You spend the rest of the night in the corner, at parade attention, you think over what’s going on, son, what you want to say to him.”

“But-“

“The only but around here is yours, and I can refresh the fire I just lit if you want.”

Dean goes. John watches him, hands shaking a little. Once Dean’s faced into the corner, he goes to his baby boy. Sam’s red-eyed, but breathing calmly.

“Sam. Tylenol in the bathroom for the headache.” Sam nods. When he comes out, tears washed away, John’s lying down, beckons the boy over to him. He scoots over, pats the bed next to him, watches Sam look warily at him as he complies. John puts his arm around the boy, draws him close enough that he can murmur to him without Dean overhearing, and as he speaks, the tension drains out of the boy. Finally, he wraps his arms around the kid, glad to feel him relax.

Relax isn’t even a good word for it, Sam thinks, head resting on John’s shoulder. He wills himself to think that it’s going to turn out ok, feeling the tension drain out of him. He’s tired from driving, and it isn’t long before he’s drowsing against John.

John savors the moment, though it would be easier if Dean wasn’t parked in the corner. He lays his boy down, covers him up, reminds himself to sleep lightly so he’ll hear any nightmares. Sam’s too tired to dream, though, and John wakes at first light, focusing first on his oldest boy, reminding John of the misconduct as he looks at the perfect parade attention. He rises, dresses, and taps Dean on the shoulder.

“At ease.”

Dean’s wearing a more open expression this morning, full of regret and apology, though he doesn’t speak. John does the talking, quietly and calmly, letting Dean know what he can expect, then telling him he’s going to take the car and make a supply run, leave the boys for a while. Dean nods, then tentatively advances. John’s got a hug for him, brief and strong, and it leaves Dean with the resolve he needed.

He pads softly to the bed where Sam’s still sleeping, kneels next to him, presses in a kiss, sacrificing his hatred of girly moments to the gods of apology. Sam blinks awake, and is pulling Dean down atop him, looking searchingly at his brother.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says gruffly.

“I don’t want to lose you,” comes the quiet reply.

“Me neither,” he says. “I hear you, ok? I can’t take both of you mad at me at the same time.”

Sam nods, seeing pain in his lover’s eyes, smiles up, watching Dean sag into him. Moments later the press of their bodies heats into insistent, irresistable erections and they relax into lazy morning sex. Dean’s thrusts are longing, an apology in and of themselves, and the emotion building between the two of them finally topples them both into orgasm, to lie still in one another’s arms. Sam knows what Dean meant. Silent anger in this family, it can be a weapon, deadly and sharp, and he’ll try never to wield it again.

**Author's Note:**

> Music: Melissa Ferrick - Blue Sky Night


End file.
